


Why we fight

by Cheryl1964



Series: Between Vengeance and Damnation [4]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheryl1964/pseuds/Cheryl1964
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of their victory at Vesuvius, the rebels consider why they follow the rebellion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glaber's End

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multichapter fic from different points of view; the characters revealing their reasons for following the rebellion.

Spartacus stood over Glaber’s lifeless body. Vengeance had been claimed; for Sura, for Aurelia, forVarro, for Duro, for all those who fell in the ruin of Batiatus. Yet Glaber’s dying words echoed yet in his mind. Yes they had vengeance; but they had also condemned themselves. Rome would send more in Glaber’s wake; eager to see them to the afterlife.

 

The rebels milled about in the temple courtyard; unsure what steps to take next now that Glaber and his men lay dead on the ground. After a few tense moments; Nasir nudged Agron. “There is food available to us now from Glaber’s stores; yet Roman bodies would rob many of appetite.”

 

Agron smiled at the Syrian. “I will see if I can get the fucking Gaul to help remove them if you would see to preparing meal.”

 

“There is no need.” Nasir said as he glanced over to see Naevia in conversation with Crixus. “Naevia will set him to task. We are of like mind.”

 

Agron noticed Nasir’s hesitation in leaving. “What troubles mind Little Man?”

 

“What does future hold? Glaber and his Roman shits lay dead.” Nasir said. “Will Rome really send more when two Praetors have fallen to us?”

 

“They are a stubborn lot; and will take insult to heart.” Gannicus said as he joined them. “But they are also a prideful lot. They do not acknowledge defeat easily; and certainly not at the hands of a group of rebel slaves. Glaber is proof of this.”

 

Gannicus kicked the body of Asher’s mercenary. “Glaber enlisted Asher and these fucks to his cause rather than seek reinforcements from Rome. He sought to keep our intent from the Senate.”

 

“Two Praetors advanced on us!” Nasir hissed.

 

“Yes they did; but each with his own men seeking to claim glory.” Gannicus added. “Varinius and Glaber were of no accord. Had they been so, we would all be for the afterlife this night.”

 

“Roman shits always seek to rise above each other.” Agron noted. “A weakness well-known. Batiatus fell to ruin for it. The next they send after us will be no different. Caught in single-minded quest for glory; they too will fall. See to meal, Nasir. We will clear the temple.”

 

“And see our honored dead to pyre.” Gannicus said.


	2. Agron and Nasir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Nasir's reasons for fighting after Vesuvius.

 

 

With fires still burning from the battle with Glaber; Spartacus saw no reason not to allow the lighting of a pyre to see their dead honorable sent to the afterlife.  Rebels gathered around quietly as Spartacus laid the body of Mira on the pyre alongside Oenemaeus and the handful of others who had fallen from life during the battle.

 

Nasir watched as the rebels mourned those fallen. His own heart weighed heavy in his chest. Mira had been a good friend easing the way for him to find his place; and Oenemeous had taken time to hone the training he had received from Spartacus and Agron. He had stood as mentor; as he had to the gladiators of Batiatus ludus. While all stood saddened; Gannicus seemed to take the Numidian’s fall especially hard.

 

Eventually Spartacus spoke. “We stand victorious this night; they look on with honor for their part in seeing Glaber fall. Yet this mountain no longer offers shelter; Rome will send others to discover Glaber’s fate. Fall to your beds and take rest; we depart with sun’s rise.”

 

Agron turned to Nasir. “Fall to our bed and seek dreams. Spartacus will have words this night before he falls to rest.” Agron finished with a chaste kiss to send him off.

 

“Mind wonders at what schemes will spring from his brain.” Naevia said as she fell in step at his side.

 

“We will know at morning’s light.” Nasir answered.

 

“It is wonder that we escaped.” Naevia said. “Tongues will speak of it for years to come.”

 

“Yes. It will become as legend.” Nasir said quietly as he glanced at Gannicus who stood watching the pyre burn. “Yet purchased at dearest cost; the loss of good friends and mentors.”

 

“And they will be honored with Roman blood spilled.” Naevia said. “Spartacus has promised that we will gather an army and see Rome tremble.”

 

“Yes he has.” Nasir said. “Oenemeous was Doctore; he shared his wisdom and skill with all of us. He was greatest among us and yet; he fell to blade. Proof that all; no matter skill can fall. Who will be next to fall to afterlife? Spartacus? Gannicus? Perhaps Crixus or Agron? It is no small thing that Spartacus speaks of; such a thing can only be accomplished with much blood.”

 

“You fear for Agron.” Naevia said. “Perhaps you have point. He never stood as champion.”

 

“Yet he lives; a gladiator.” Nasir spat. “A thing not accomplished unless he stands undefeated upon the sands. Had he suffered loss his blood would water the ground; it does not. And did he not lend aid in seeing Crixus from its sands and burning the arena to ground when Glaber ordered death ad gladiatorum?”

 

“Crixus stands champion; with title earned.” Naevia explained.

 

“As did Theokles before he fell to Spartacus blade.” Nasir hissed. “All will eventually fall and feel touch of Hades upon them; your Undefeated Gaul among them. The only thing left to chance is where and when.” Nasir shook his head. “I would have that day be many long years from now for Agron.”

 

“You would deny him glory?” Naevia asked.

 

“What good is glory to the one who gains it? Their name would rest upon lips yet to be born; yet the man himself but a shade in Hades realm.” Nasir said. “I care not for glory; it is not my cause. Nor is it the cause of many who follow rebellion. I fight for freedom; for myself and those who would follow; that they be spared shackle and lash. That is thing of importance to me; not that my name be uttered a thousand years from now by those who hold no meaning to me.”

 

Naevia watched as Nasir made his way into the temple to the place where he and Agron would pass the night.

* * *

 

“You toss and turn. Needed rest yet escapes you.” Agron sighed as Nasir once again wriggled and turned within his arms. “Give voice to what troubles mind.”

 

“Things yet to pass. We have defeated Glaber. Spartacus now speaks of defeating Rome herself.”

 

“Spartacus stood as Roman auxiliary before he was sold into slavery. He is well aware of Roman ways.” Agron explained. “He knows that their pride will not allow them to see how their own actions spur us to rebellion. They will not acknowledge Glaber’s blame in this. He stands Roman. We are left no choice.”

 

“You would fight because you are left no choice?” Nasir asked quietly.

 

“I fight to survive as we all do now branded fugitivus.” Agron said quietly.

 

“While wound yet healed; I spent much time with Oenemeaus.” Nasir said. “He spoke of Titus Batiatus; a man he held in much esteem. He shared words of wisdom passed to him from Titus. The words you just spoke were once Oenaemeus own; yet Titus taught him that they were not meant to be held as reason.”

 

“You speak in circles my heart. Make meaning clear.” Agron said.

 

“Oenemeaus shared the words of Titus Batiatius, that a man must find within himself reason to fight beyond mere survival. It is what makes a champion; fighting for something greater than one’s self.” Nasir said. “I have fought all my life for survival; in many ways when I stood as slave. But now I have found greater purpose; freedom. Not just for myself but for others.”

 

“Now meaning is plain.” Agron shifted to comfortably settle himself and Nasir. “I fight for survival because fight will be forced upon us; yet there are deeper reasons. At first it was to avenge Duro. I gave no thought to anything other than sending as many Roman shits to the afterlife as brutally as I was able. Such is the reason you have heard many whisper that I stood as but mindless beast when the ludus fell. I was yet such when we came upon your villa; did you not witness how easily I fell to bloodlust the night Seppius’ scouts arrived? Yet now time and circumstance have changed reason.”

 

“The empty space where heart had been ripped away is now filled.” Agron said. “Fight is now forced upon us and you stand at risk. I would not have you fall; nor would I see shackle placed again upon you. I would not see specter of Tiberius rise to reclaim flesh of Nasir.”

 

“You fight for me?” Nasir asked, surprised.

 

“And always shall.” Agron said. “When we searched for you in the forest upon return from mines; I felt heart seize when only Spartacus and Mira stood before me. Then I laid eyes upon you and could not stop offered prayers to any gods who would listen that your life yet remained.”

 

“You are the reason that I fight Nasir. But do not think it lofty aspiration.” Agron added. “I live now because of you. You have replaced the heart stolen by Roman blade; a great debt I fear will never be repaid; yet I will make attempt by seeing you free for balance of days. Yet I am shamed that I cannot give you more. You are deserving of the world placed at your feet.”

 

Nasir placed a finger on the German’s lips, shushing him. “There is no debt owed my heart. I live because of you. Tiberius is no longer of this world. The life that stretched before me filled with days of serving Dominus as pampered pet until looks faded and I fell from favor ended the night you came. You are the one who saved Nasir from the prison I was forced to place him in to survive. I would now take place by your side to that no other is forced to such.”

 

“Then we fight together, reasons perhaps different; yet both reaching toward common goal.” Agron said.

 

“I would have it no other way.” Nasir said as he snuggled into Agron’s side knowing that his gladiator also fought for a cause and not just to fight.


	3. Gannicus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gannicus comes to a decision as the rebels prepare to leave Vesuvius

The rebels were sorting through the supplies that the Romans had been carrying to see what they would take with them from Vesuvius. Gannicus sat atop the temple wall; wine jug being tipped to lips at regular intervals. The night past had been without sleep both because of the decision he had reached and his reason for coming to it.

 

Spartacus had gathered him along with Agron and Crixus to discuss how they would go forward. Although there still remained a good number of gladiators who had escaped Batiatus ludus; the four of them stood the most skilled. Three of them having earned the honor of being called Champion of Capua; the only one lacking such title being Agron.

 

Yet even Crixus had to acknowledge that it had been Batiatus goal to groom the German for the day the title would fall to him; the reasoning for separating Duro to fight alone upon the sands. A small sacrifice in the man’s eyes to see Agron reach his potential.

 

Gannicus had been expecting to hear Spartacus offer repeated. To stand beside them in leadership; it was only right that Gannicus be offered the position that had once been held by the man he called brother, that they called Doctore.

 

Gannicus had listened to the three and to their arguments. Spartacus argued the honor that a man holds for himself. Gannicus chuckled. Any such honor he had held was long swept away upon an ocean’s worth of women and drink.

 

Crixus had argued the legend that was Gannicus. A gladiator who held the rudis bestowed for his many victories upon the sand. The rudis was naught but a slip of wood; gifted not for some great deed but simply because a fickle crowd demanded it. The same crowd who would now boo and hiss and pelt him with roots and vegetables gone to rot. After all did he not witness the adoring crowd treat two of their once well-loved champions to such moments before the arena was burnt down around his ears?

 

Agron had argued the wealth of knowledge Gannicus held and of slaves yet to be freed ignorant of the ways of fighting men. Did he not stand at one point the closest and well-loved of brothers to Doctore? Agron like the others was ignorant of Gannicus betrayal; the cause of the strife that had settled among them and had stood until the day Spartacus paired them together to face Agron and Crixus who struggled with their own points of contention. Yet in his ignorance; the German had found the very means to sway Gannicus to cause.

 

Gannicus thought of Mellita; able to picture her kind and beautiful face there upon the balcony as she attended to Lucretia and watched the men train below. The loving glances she had favored upon her husband while glances just as loving for different reasons were cast his way. Gannicus had turned his attentions to others; forcing himself to see her only as sister until the night Quintilius Varus demanded to witness him in joining with his brother’s wife.

 

 

Gannicus found that his heart had fled long before to Mellita’s keeping. Things long denied rose to drown him in a sea of guilt and deception. Thoughts that he had worked hard to ignore suddenly weighed on his mind and heart. Had it been only his own thoughts that gave pause; he could have continued to live as a martyr to love ever denied; yet Mellita gave every indication of suffering the same. And they found themselves coming together in stolen moments. It was Mellita who finally regained sense; bring him also to sanity. The agreement between them unspoken that husband and brother would never learn of the betrayal; yet he did.

 

Oenemaeus first words to him in the arena; an accusation of betrayal that Gannicus could not deny. The guilt sat as a weight upon him. Yet Gannicus could not send his brother to the arms of the woman they both loved without understanding.

 

When Spartacus attacked the arena with his men; it was as if a gift from Jupiter himself. Gannicus would have the opportunity to give an explanation and let his brother know that Mellita’s love him won out over all else, she had chosen her husband and Gannicus had chosen to insure that he would no longer be among them to stand as temptation.

 

Yet it was all for nothing. Mellita fell to the afterlife; victim of the tainted wine sent for Titus Batiatus and Gannicus was freed at the demand of the crowd. Then many years later; here in the shadow of the mountain those first steps toward understanding and acceptance; to rebuilding the bond that once stood between them were taken; then all to quickly and cruelly snatched away.

 

Gannicus took another long swallow to stave off the tears that threatened. Oenemaeus had granted forgiveness with his dying breath. He had welcomed Gannicus back to his side as a brother in Spartacus mad struggle with Glaber. The cause was not his own; yet Oenemaeus had embraced it. Gannicus would honor his brother by taking up the cause in memory of his brother.


	4. The German Pt 1-Donar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since there are so many German rebels I am breaking it up into several chapters. The rebels have left Vesuvius and raided a villa. This chapter shows a bit of the Germans spending time together and Donar's reason for following the rebellion.

Donar watched as Saxa settled next to Nemetes. Lugo chuckled. As the other man gave an almost imperceptible shudder and shifted to put distance between the German woman and himself. Nemetes had been heard begging her mercy after the end of the battle crying exhaustion. Saxa looked at Nemetes before rattling off a spate of German drawing laughter from Agron and the others and a look of confusion from Nasir.

 

Donar chuckled. “She says that we should take a Roman brothel next so she can lay hands on a phallus. It would prove more dependable than Nemetes who tires too quickly.”

 

Agron guffawed. “I fear a phallus may be all that can match your appetite Saxa!”

 

“I would ask if Little Man let me borrow you upon a night. We hear his cries. Then I remember you probably were taught women grow teeth down there!” Saxa said teasing the gladiator.

 

“I know better Saxa. I have seen proof that all that exists is a beard of hair that even a bear would envy!” Agron said. “I lived in Batiatus ludus after all!”

 

Donar gave a shudder. “And you managed to avoid being called up for Lucretia’s special ‘entertainments’.”

 

“I had no desire to be the bitch’s whore.” Agron said. “I found no problem in convincing her that I may have been all manner of violent accomplishment in the arena; much less so in the bedchamber!”

 

Donar chuckled. “Trust that you did not stand alone in such; many found impotence preferable to her attentions!”

 

Another round of laughter found Nasir frowning as the harsh words flowed too quickly for him to follow. Lugo took the opportunity to clear up the mystery. “Little Man is better than former Domina; he has power to fix limp cock! Agron says his did not work when he was in ludus.”

 

“I have no reason for complaints. I had no desire for it to rise then. It rises quickly to purpose now.” Agron grinned.

 

Nasir felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Little Man not have complaint either. His face grows red in remembrance of cause for his cries.”

 

Another round of laughter from the Germans. Agron grinned and slipped his arm around Nasir tucking him safely against his side. Nasir turned his face toward Agron silently demanding a kiss.

 

“Agron you shit! Spartacus saw room picked out for you as soon as villa fell; just as he did for Crixus!” Donar said. “Bad enough we have to listen; I for one would rather not see also!”

 

“Perhaps you should take up with Saxa; Nemetes seems unable to keep up with her!” Nasir said as Agron helped him to his feet. “You would be less concerned with cries you hear from our chamber. And how do you know that cries are not Agron's.”

"Because I would growl as a bear." Agron grinned. "Not cry as a wild little dog!" The Germans fell to more laughter and catcalls targeting Argon just as much as Nasir.

 

Donar watched as the two headed off to the villa before settling back upon his bedroll. He placed his hands behind his head and let his thoughts wander as he waited for sleep to take him.  It was a miracle to find himself here among Spartacus rebels; and among his own kind after so many years on hated Roman soil.

 

When he had been sold to Batiatus; he had thought never to see another from east of the Rhine. Then came the day when the bastard arrived dragging Duro and Agron along with that worthless Gaul, Segovex. Donar had watched Agron and Duro in training; hesitant to make any overture of friendship in case they did not survive the training. It had been a close thing; more than once the two escaped being sent to the mines by the barest margin; but they survived…and earned the mark.

 

When Spartacus began to plot escape; Donar was quick to throw his lot in with his countrymen. They may not have seemed to be much upon the sand; but they were German. And they had gone down fighting; torn from their homeland just as Donar had been. Fighting to escape would be far different than seeking to slay an opponent in the arena.

 

Then Duro fell during the uprising; Roman sword piercing the belly that had but just moved in place of unprotected back. It had been Donar who urged Agron to let go of the lifeless body and stayed at Agron’s back. Donar had placed himself at Agron’s side; poor excuse for a brother lost. But better than nothing as Spartacus explained when he had asked Donar to do so; the man filled with worry for Agron and remorse for Duro.

 

In the days since, Donar had seen Agron regain reason for living with Nasir and mature into a man that any clan would have been proud to call chieftain. When the Germans had joined them there had been moments of tension spurred by Crixus. Agron and Donar had broken words immediately after the ludus fell. They had both held worries that Spartacus led them but only as long as Crixus was willing to follow Spartacus lead. The Gauls had more than once shown that the only voice they would heed was that of the Undefeated Gaul.

 

Agron had risked Spartacus anger and the wrath of the Gauls to see Spartacus with men who would be loyal to Spartacus by leading them to the ship from east of the Rhine.  Then when Sedullus proved to be without honor, Agron had been the one to challenge the behemoth in Naevia’s defense. When Spartacus killed Sedullus it was Agron who had challenged the new recruits to claim kinship and swear fealty to Spartacus. Spartacus killed Sedullus with sword in hand; the Germans had been just as impressed that Agron had faced the danger without weapon.  

 

Then Donar had been witness to the birth of a clan. He had taken part; fist beating his chest in time with the others as they stood at Agron’s back as was proper. The ritual was ancient; one that went back for generations east of the Rhine but its meaning was clear to all. Agron had claimed his people and sworn them all to Spartacus cause. An oath that would stand as long as their chieftain, Agron, lived. And as long as his chieftain lived; Donar would honor it.


	5. The Germans Pt 2 Lugo and Saxa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lugo and Saxa think on the rebellion and what it means to them.

Lugo knew that he was not the smartest of men; a thing that had been drummed into him from youngest childhood. His mother constantly despairing of him stumbling into trouble; his father exclaiming to all that followed that Lugo would never amount to more than a soldier to be sacrificed to cause upon the field of battle and then would probably only prove stupid enough to fall into the enemies hands. Lugo knew this and rather than let it drag him down; set out to become the strongest fighter possible. It was how he had met Sedullus.

 

Sedullus was the first that did not treat Lugo as a complete waste. For the most part he treated Lugo as an accomplished warrior; yet when the man sank into the grip of beer or mead; Lugo became the butt of Sedullus jokes. Lugo was aware of the fact that Sedullus did not consider him more than someone to bash heads at his side; and a source of amusement when the heads were bashed. Yet Lugo had proven smarter than Sedullus in the end; applying himself to learning and understanding the words of the Roman invaders completely; while Sedullus and many others only learned enough to get by.

 

Lugo learned much of Spartacus (and the tall German called Agron) when they had reached the temple after his liberation from the slave ship. There was a Gaul revealing his vile nature even as Lugo made an overture of friendship. The little man that immediately sought out Agron’s embrace; and found it returned with equal eagerness. The large dark-skinned man who watched the arrival with measuring eyes. These were the rebels who like Agron, followed Spartacus in his cause. While the others looked around with curious eyes; Lugo wondered what power he held to keep Agron and the Gaul from coming to blows.

 

Then Sedullus falling to Spartacus blade. Spartacus words that that cleared up the confusion of why Agron would turn on his own blood and attack Sedullus with the Gaul joining in at the German’s side; Spartacus raising sword to save Agron’s life when Sedullus sought to strike him down while at a disadvantage; Agron’s oath to Spartacus. And then Lugo stepping forward to pick up wooden sword and shield adding his own vow; banging out the rhythm that led them all in beating their breasts in an oath of fealty.

 

Agron and Spartacus seeking him out later to offer gratitude for helping to bring them all together. Neither man questioned his intelligence or treated him as an object of amusement; instead they treated him as a man with equal respect. This was a thing that Lugo never expected. He expected to be treated as he had been all his life. Lugo would follow Spartacus and Agron; he would make a life for himself here among the rebels and fight for them. They were his people now.

 

* * *

 

 

Saxa sat quietly on the wall contemplating the blades she had taken from the Egyptian. She had never seen knives of such quality before. Nasir had called them Damascus steel. He had explained that his people, at least the people he had been born into had ways of making strong steel that would stand up to rough use. She now possessed this steel; a thing that would make her brothers cry with envy if they still lived. They did not.

 

Saxa had watched them all fall alongside her father. A father that thought less of her for not being born another boy; as if five sons were not enough. Saxa had spent her life attempting to prove her worth; becoming just as hardened and fierce as her brothers. Even outshining one of them. She could out drink, out fight and out whore Olaf on her worst day, and yet her father had simply looked on her with disappointment. When the Romans came to set fire to their village; Saxa did not hesitate.

 

While Olaf chose to take himself from the field claiming to protect women and children; Saxa wielded sword spilling the blood of the invaders at her father’s side. She had fought to the end; only downed alongside others when boxed in by numbers. She found herself caged on board a ship bound for Rome along with other women.

 

When Agron had answered the attack of the bastard guard; Saxa had taken her opportunity to enter the fight. Reaching through the bars of the cage she had grabbed the guard standing there to keep him from joining against the tall German and the others who fought the Roman shits. She had been shocked to learn that the old man who responded to her cries to kill the bastard claimed Roman blood.

 

She did not understand why a Roman would help them until after Lucius had fallen to the Egyptian. Agron had told to her the story that he had heard from Lucius own lips. Of Romans turning upon their own and slaughtering them simply to rise in favor for the ambition of a man who held no honor.

 

Saxa had found that the old man had been as eager to help Spartacus as any slave. She also understood in a way that Lucius fought so hard for them because there was always the thought of being considered less important because he was a free man and a Roman. He did not fit in any more than Saxa had fit in among five brothers.

 

When she had come upon the body of the Egyptian while sweeping the dead for what could be used; the thought of Lucius rose in her mind. An old man believed of no worth by those who shared his blood; had fallen by the Egyptian’s hand. Saxa picked up the daggers; Lucius blood was Roman. Yet these daggers were stained with other blood also; Oenemeaus blood. She would take them and see them cleansed of the blood of her friends and comrades by seeing them washed in the blood of Roman shits.

 

The sound of a footfall broke her from her thoughts. She looked up to find the Celt Gannicus standing there with a jug of wine. “Apologies.” He said as he started to turn away. “I sought only quiet away from the others.”

 

“Sit. There is quiet here.” Saxa said. “I would share burden of grief. Doctore was a man deserving of mourning.” She twirled the dagger in her hand. “And of blood spilled in his honor.”

 

Gannicus settled down on the wall next to her and held out the wine jug in silent offer. “He was more than man, he was my brother.”


	6. Naevia and Crixus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navia and Nasir talk about the rebellion while Crixus watches and thinks

Naevia measured out a quantity of grain dumping it into a basket that she handed to Nasir. “This should fill needs for today.” She said.

 

“Let us hope that Agron and Donar are successful in their hunt.” Nasir said. “Meat coupled with bread would be most welcome.”

 

“We all grow tired of bread and water.” Naevia said. “Yet grain will soon run low. The number of bellies needing filling grows each day.”

 

Nasir picked up an empty basket. “Each belly brings two hands to lend to rebellion’s cause.”

 

Naevia sighed as a group of children sat in a cleared area sorting through a basket of apples. “Not all may lift sword.”

 

“This is true.” Nasir said. “Yet we can find purpose for all. In time children grow. I but pray fighting ends before they grow old enough to lift sword.”

 

“I would not see such; yet better to lift sword than grow as slave.” Naevia said. “I would not see them grow under Roman masters.”

 

“Nor would I. Yet they are children.” Nasir said.

 

“A thing of little note to the Romans. You know the perversions children can be subjected to.” Naevia said.

 

“And even if they are fortunate enough to fall to a kind master; such kindness can turn in but a moment.” Nasir said.

 

“A thing I know all too well.” Naevia said. “She protected Diona and I; and then turned on us both.”

 

“Lucretia does not sound like the type of woman who held true care for any but herself.” Nasir said. “And there were rumors about the house of Batiatus whispered in my Dominus villa. Her actions toward you did not surprise my Dominus. Your Domina sent several invitations to him speaking of pleasures to be found there.”

 

“He was no better.” Naevia said. “We have broken words of our experiences; we experienced similar abuses.”

 

“There is difference.” Nasir said. “My Dominus never pretended to care; I grew up with his eyes upon me waiting for the moment when he considered me mature enough suffer hands upon me. I knew my destiny.”

 

“And no child should have their childhood spent dreading the moment they will be ordered to suffer the lust of a master; or be forced to do so without warning” Naevia said. “Both fates are cruel. Crixus, Agron, Spartacus and the other gladiators consider their fate unfair; yet there are times that they do not grasp what we suffer as the ones closest to hand of our Roman masters.”

 

“Then it is for us to make sure that they never forget that gladiators are not the only ones who stand as slaves.” Nasir said.

 

“Nor are they the only ones who will fight for freedom.” Naevia said. “I would die before I allow another unwanted touch.”

 

“As would I; and we would both see many Romans fall to the afterlife before us.” Nasir said. 

 

* * *

 

 

Crixus sat quietly watching as Naevia and Nasir spoke quietly together. The two had stepped up taking over the duties of overseeing supplies and the day to day chores that came with being part of a growing army.

 

Mira’s death on Vesuvius had left a critical void which the two had quickly recognized. A thing easy enough to understand as they had both been charged with overseeing large households before joining the rebellion; if being dragging into a life of blood and death could be called joining.

 

The two shared a quiet laugh as they portioned out grain for the making of bread. Crixus held no use for the Syrian at first and would have gladly parted the boy’s head from his shoulders when Nasir made his attempt on Spartacus. Then the growing closeness between Agron and Nasir simply stirred Crixus ire further.

 

Crixus rarely admitted even to himself that he could be wrong; but in this case he was left absent choice. Nasir was the reason Naevia had been returned to his arms. The Syrian had risked his budding relationship with Agron to reveal Naevia’s suffering in the mines; then risked his life as they fled suffering a grave wound that almost ended his life.

 

As the boy had recovered from his wound he had often been a source of solace to Naevia. At times, even more of a comfort than Crixus. Nasir had been a trusted ear to share the burden of sufferings Naevia felt she could not share with Crixus. Naevia was slowly coming into her own shedding the shackles binding her mind that had been forged during their separation.

 

Crixus thought back to his days in the arena fighting for the amusement of Roman fucks. He had spilled his blood, risked his life, for nothing more than the cheers of people who thought him nothing more than an animal. And when he wasn’t in the arena; he was in Lucretia’s bed. Nothing more than a toy to her also; he had heard her huddled together with Glaber’s bitch and calling him a beast.

 

He had existed in that warped life; seeing nothing wrong with it; convincing himself that there was something honorable in existing. Then Spartacus came and things changed. Crixus had resisted; Spartacus words of freedom falling on deaf ears; until Batiatus and Lucretia’s schemes could no longer be ignored.

 

There was Varro, killed in what was supposed to be nothing more than an exhibition on a child’s whim. Barca murdered by Batiatus own hand for trying to hide his own shame from Pietros. Naevia’s banishment; to be degraded to feed Batiatus political ambition because she dared to fall in love. Standing beside Oenemeaus and Rhaskos in the arena; the crowds that had once cheered him as their champion now hissing and pelting him with refuse.

 

Crixus realized that he had been fighting for years; for the wrong thing.  He had been fighting in dishonor thinking it honorable. His thinking had been as twisted as Nasir’s when the Syrian crept into that bedchamber dagger in hand to plunge into Spartacus back. After all Crixus had for years been concerned only with the position and respect he held as Champion of Capua.

 

Those days were over. Crixus fought for honor now. To see Rome fall was the most honorable thing he could imagine, especially with Naevia by his side.


	7. Spartacus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spartacus and what drives him

Spartacus walked through the small camp seeing the many slaves who had joined the rebellion. Their numbers were growing in the wake of Glaber’s defeat; but as Agron continued to point out; fighting men were few in numbers. Even Crixus had joined his voice in raising concern with Agron. The two were eager to fight and spill Roman blood; yet it would take more than desire to face Rome. They were not yet ready for such; but time had come to make themselves ready.

 

Spartacus spotted the tall German, sparring with his lover Nasir. The two were surrounded by Donar and the rest of the Germans. Spartacus approached and stopped at Donar’s side.

 

“Agron keeps his skills honed?” Spartacus asked.

 

“As do we all.” Donar chuckled as Nasir managed to get a blow in on the taller man. “And our Little Man continues to improve; Nemetes will no longer spar with him fearing to land upon dirt.”

 

Agron lowered his sword and stepped forward; Nasir meeting him and lifting his lips to join the taller man’s in a chaste kiss. Nasir took the training sword from Agron’s hand and turned toward Lugo who laughed and came forward to engage the Syrian.

 

“Spartacus.” Agron greeted as he approached. “You have reached a decision?”

 

“I have.” Spartacus said. “When sun gives way to night; I would have you, Crixus and Gannicus by my side.”

 

“And what of your followers?” Agron asked. “You would simply leave them without explanation?”

 

“I will leave them in Donar’s capable hands.” Spartacus said. “With Nasir and Naevia at his side I believe they will find their way.”

 

Agron sighed. “It is a shame that Lucius is not here to see his properties liberated. It is an impressive listing of holdings.”

 

“I would take full advantage of such a generous gift.” Spartacus said before laying his hand on Agron’s shoulder. “Take rest; I will have words with Crixus and Gannicus. Let us meet when sun sinks in western sky.”

 

* * *

 

 

Spartacus had quickly found Crixus sparring with Naevia and Gannicus deep in his cups along with Saxa.  Plans had been made for the night’s attack on the closest villa listed among the holdings that Sulla had usurped from Lucius family.  Spartacus took to his bed in pursuit of sleep before taking up sword.

 

As usual his sleep was soon disturbed by dreams of those fallen. The first faces were accusing; blaming Spartacus for their deaths. Aurelia’s shrill voice rising above all others until Varro appeared to calm his wife.

 

Then Varro, Doctore and Mira; would offer encouragement. This time Lucius joined the parade of faces standing next to Varro. Speaking of how they both stood Roman and yet their lives were of no more importance that the lowest of slaves. The republic did not just shit upon slaves; it shit upon everyone equally.

 

Finally the final face to appear, Sura, his beloved wife. Reminding him to remember the warning given of the red serpent; that it would be his future if he remained upon the path he had chosen. There was yet time to change his fate by choosing a different path. This time Duro added his own pleas to Sura’s; begging him to consider the fates of those who followed him. Spartacus woke abruptly the lingering image of crosses lining a road as far as he could see the only remnant of his dreams.

 

The fall of Rome was an ambition to match the most outrageous of Batiatus ambitions. To see it fall would take an army of unbelievable size. Every slave in the republic would need raise sword; yet to make the republic tremble was within reach. Perhaps trembling would be enough to see lesson learned.

 

Those who fought Glaber at Vesuvius thirsted for Roman blood. There were slights to be redressed; losses that cut deep into their souls and they had feasted. Yet the feast only whets many appetites for more. Those who followed him from Vesuvius yet hungered.

 

The dead yet cried out for blood to be spilled when many slipped into the realm of Morpheus. Dead who had fallen not only on Roman soil; but on the soil of foreign lands where Rome desired conquest. It would take an army to see the debt of blood paid; Spartacus would raise that Army.

 

He pulled of the parchment that Lucius had placed in his hands before they had set out for Atella. The holdings of the Caelius Clan would see them well on their way to building that army; as would the mines that dotted the countryside. And the Romans would make their own contributions to the rebel army through their thirst for conquest. Slaver ships from foreign lands weighed with men and women taken in battle and torn from their mother lands as Spartacus and Sura had been.

 

Yes Rome would tremble. The legions sent in Glaber’s wake would fall. The slave would see master bow in subjugation. No woman would ever again be torn from the arms of one who held her heart. No child would be raised in fear of lash. No man’s life would again be taken on the whim of another for the price of a few coins.


End file.
